Calamity Jane
by rhapsodybree
Summary: All of my 'Adelaide' stories from now on will be published under this title. Jane, Lisbon and family all the way!
1. My sister

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

*************

**Author's Note:**

To avoid any confusion and maintain a 'flow' of facts and details, all future 'Adelaide' stories will now be published under this title 'Calamity Jane.' Some chapters will be related, whilst others will be standalone.

In addition to this series, four other stories have already been published with links to the 'Adelaide' universe. For those interested these stories, in story chronological order, are:

- Crimson Casanova, part 2

- Furtive Musings

- Baby Adelaide

- Coincidence

And so without much further ado, on with the story.

*************

The next time Patrick Jane meets Dr. Sophie Miller is when they bump into each other in a hospital cafeteria three years later.

Sophie was walking between wards when she spots the familiar blonde haired gentleman – hair just a little more unruly than she recalled – seated at a small table to her left. By all appearances, from what she could see walking toward his back, he was having a coffee and reading the paper.

But when she drew closer and stepped in front of him with a 'Patrick!' it was to a vision she never expected to see. Here sat Patrick Jane cradling a child in his arms as said child sucked on a bottle. Patrick's left arm held her in place, and balanced the bottle that his daughter gripped, whilst his other hand manned the coffee.

He'd just put down the hospital-grade coffee when Sophie had appeared in front of him. 'Sophie!'

To say that Sophie was shocked was an understatement! Taking the chair opposite him, she managed to push aside her disbelief long enough to attempt a conversation. Patrick wasn't very forthcoming on any details, but she did manage to discover that the child in front of her, with gorgeous blonde curls atop her head, was indeed Patrick's daughter – Adelaide Jane – but discovered very little else about Patrick, what he was doing these days, or even why he was at the hospital in the first place.

Further attempts at retrieving more information from him were interrupted when Addy finished her bottle and squirmed, wanting to be held upright. Acquiescing, Patrick stands her on his knees, keeping a firm grip on her, mindful of the coffee on the table in front of him.

When Adelaide gets fidgety in his arms, wanting to be put down on the floor, Patrick stills her movements by pulling her up near his face. 'Hey munchikin. Let Daddy finish his coffee, and then we'll head up and see Mummy. Yeah?'

When Addy heard her mother's name she clapped her hands gleefully. 'Mummy! Baby!'

Laughing at her enthusiasm, Patrick nodded. 'Yes that's right. Mummy had a baby. You've got a sister.'

Adelaide nodded her head with a smile just like her father's as she attempted to say sister. 'Sh... shi... Shitter!' Struggling to keep his laughter under control, Patrick tries to correct his daughter. 'Sister, sweetheart! Sister.'

Sophie had kept quiet throughout this entire exchange. Seeing Patrick so comfortable in his father role, and clearly in love with his family, it's a far cry from the man she'd helped nurse back to health all those years ago.

Gulping down the remainder of his lukewarm coffee, Patrick stood up with Addy in his arms bidding his farewell to Sophie.

'Good to see you Sophie.'

'You too, Patrick. Congratulations.'

Flashing his trademark grin, Patrick picked up his two bags and strode off down the hallway.

Sophie's last sight of Patrick Jane is of his back and the cheerful waving hand of his daughter as he retreated down the hall. Sighing, she rose from her chair and made her way in the opposite direction. She had patients to see.

Stopping to buy some flowers from the gift shop, Patrick and Adelaide Jane make their way upstairs.

Teresa Jane was seated upright in her hospital bed, sleeping baby in her arms, when Patrick and Addy peeked their heads around the door. She grinned as her husband and daughter entered the room, flowers and all.

Addy was placed on the bed with several 'careful' warnings as she leaned into give her mother a slobbery kiss, before observing the baby before her in awe. Patrick too leans down to kiss Teresa, looking at their latest miracle who had made her arrival the day before.

Teresa opened her mouth to speak when Addy suddenly points at the baby and said in a very loud voice 'Shitter!'

Years later, at Adelaide's 21st party and much to the birthday girl's mortification, Marta Jane took great joy in telling the story to all present of what her older sister's first words to her had been!


	2. Patrick Jane, Marriage Therapist

Disclaimer: I own nothing, except my own creations.

**Author's Note:**

'Calamity Jane' will be my collection of stories in my invented 'Adelaide' universe. Each chapter will standalone (unless otherwise stated), and may not be in a chronological order with regards to the story and ages of the Jane children, as I publish stories as my muse hits me!

If there's any confusion as to where a story sits in the Adelaide timeline, drop me a line and I'll help explain it.

And so, without much further ado, on with the story...

*****************

Patrick Jane loved doing the school run with his children. Teresa couldn't stand the meaningless chit-chat of the mothers at the gate where they await their children, and thus willingly relinquishes the role to her husband.

The other mothers, but of course, find Patrick completely and utterly charming. He is his usual self, and has many a mother making the extra effort on her appearance each morning and afternoon come school drop off and pick up time.

Sometimes Teresa does the school pick up or school drop off, and when she does so, the other mothers loudly lament the loss of Patrick – forgetting that this is Patrick's wife – until noting that Patrick's kids are running toward this woman with yells of 'Mum!'

It doesn't bother Teresa. She trusts Patrick, and bets that he has a great amount of fun at their expense.

*****************

On one such morning for the school drop off, Patrick waved Adelaide and Marta off as per usual. Preparing to depart, Kimberlee del Martin, mother of Logan who was in the same year as Adelaide, sidled up to Patrick and tried to suggest that perhaps they go somewhere for the afternoon. Alone.

Looking momentarily flustered, before recovering, Patrick laughed in good grace, but declined her offer. Taking in the downtrodden look of Ms del Martin, he instead suggested that perhaps they go for a cup of tea and talk about her marriage problems.

'How did you know?'

'A man never discloses his secrets!' said Patrick, knocking the side of his nose. Smiling despite herself, Kim agrees. As Patrick picks up his three year old Sorcha to rest on his hip, they decide to meet at a coffee place just down the road.

Ordering a coffee for himself and a babycino for his youngest daughter, Patrick encourages Kim to speak. Once she opens her mouth, the words just keep coming as she talks about her marriage to Horatio del Martin, the love of her currently depressing life.

Content to sit on her father's lap and watch the adults talk, Sorcha focuses all her attention on getting every last drop of her babycino. Satisfied that she has completed her mission, Sorcha gets comfortable in her father's arms, settling herself in for a nap in a semi-seated position.

Spent with talking, Kim looks at the dark brown curly haired child in Patrick's arm, looking quite the angel when she slept. Sighing in regret, she expresses her wish. 'I'd love another one of those. There is something so precious about babies.'

'You want this one? She's all yours for the taking! Tears, tantrums and all!' jokes Patrick. But then turning serious for a moment, Patrick suggests that she speak with her husband about what she wanted.

Thanking him for his assistance and a sympathetic ear, Kim heads home with a renewed purpose in life, as Patrick takes his sleeping bundle to childcare so that he can head to work.

*****************

After the kids were in bed that night, Patrick suddenly starts a conversation with Teresa as they both clean up the kitchen. 'I got asked for a quick shag today,' he said, sipping his drink nonchalantly, before continuing to dry up as Teresa looked at him.

'What?' she replied, not sure if she'd heard him right.

Patrick responded with a grin. 'You heard me. What would you know, the mums find me attractive!'

Teresa grinned in response, and decided to play along. 'Ah yes. You're so severely lacking at home that you need to search elsewhere to boost your confidence. Heaven help us, you're no good in the bedroom dept. Hope the lady wasn't too disappointed. Poor girl!'

As she turned back to the washing up, she sensed Patrick getting closer, but still wasn't prepared for when he grasped her hips and quickly spun her around as soap suds went flying. Teresa gave a squeal as Patrick growled into her ear. 'You'll pay for that wife!'

'Oh yeah?' Patrick pulls their bodies flush against each other as their arousal heightens. He leans down to kiss his wife, only to be greeted with suds on his face as Teresa splashes her husband with the soapy washing up water.

What ensues is a water fight befitting pre-schoolers and hardly suitable for high ranking CBI officials!

*****************

Later on in bed, after a fast – but fun – bout of lovemaking, Teresa props herself up on Jane's chest as he runs a hand through her hair, the other hand behind his head.

'So whatever did happen to the mother you were talking about?'

Patrick responded with a wry grin. 'Oh I just took her out for coffee and gave her marriage advice. I ought to be paid for this kind of thing. Patrick Jane, Marriage Therapist. I can see it now! And after all, I'm an expert on how to make a marriage perfect!'

Teresa twisted his nipple in retaliation, before he quickly flips her over.

'You just never learn do you?' he said, staring down at her.

'It would seem not,' she said in response, pulling him down for a kiss.

Thankfully there were no nightmares or requests for parents that night!


	3. Casualty

Disclaimer: I own nothing, except my own creations.

**************

Teresa Lisbon was at home, six months pregnant, minding her 16 month old daughter Adelaide, when she gets the call.

'Teresa Jane?' said a voice.

'Yes?' she responded, a sense of foreboding filling her.

'My name is Alison Britt from Casuarina Hospital. We have your husband here. He's in surgery at the moment.'

'Surgery? What. Why?' she asked, going into shock.

'He took a bullet to his shoulder ma'am. It looks to be a clean in and out. He should be fine. But we'll need you at the hospital.'

'I'll be there as soon as I can,' said a flustered Teresa, hanging up the call, but still gripping the phone hard.

After standing still for a few moments, she snaps into action, sweeping up the objecting Adelaide into her arms and ringing her neighbour. Having organised a babysitter for a few hours, Teresa drives to the hospital, phoning Cho as she did so, but unable to get through. What had gone wrong – and why hadn't they contacted her?

Arriving in the hospital foyer, Teresa tries to keep calm, but her hormones were seriously out of whack. 'Patrick Jane?'

'Straight down the corridor.'

Meeting up with the team in the waiting room, Teresa wants to know what the hell went wrong. Van Pelt and Rigsby trip over themselves in their haste to answer this outraged pregnant woman. Cho added information only as required, whilst new team member Lance Nottingham wisely stood back.

The team had all thought that someone else was contacting Teresa, when in fact no one had. The suspect had gone ballistic and started shooting madly. One police officer had died, another was in intensive care, and Patrick had been hit in the shoulder.

Teresa takes a seat, but when the surgeon comes out and asks who is here for Patrick Jane, Teresa quickly stands and approaches the man. 'I'm his wife. How is he?'

'He's fine. We'll keep him overnight, but then he should be fine to go home tomorrow. No work, no stress and plenty of rest.'

'Can I see him?'

'Sure. Are you Teresa?' when she nodded, he continued. 'He's been saying your name a fair bit. The nurse will show you to his room.'

Teresa enters the room alone to find her husband lying on the bed, face pale, looking nothing like the exuberant personality that he normally is. His eyes were closed, but fluttered open as Teresa stood by the edge of the bed and brushed his cheek with her hand.

Patrick struggled to raise his uninjured arm to his wife as he mumbled 'Tess'. Unable to reach her face, he contented himself with resting his hand on her swollen belly that encased their unborn child. 'Addy?' he managed to groan out.

'Kelli's got her.'

Grunting, Patrick moves a little as he pulls Teresa to sit on the edge of the bed.

'How you feeling?' Patrick doesn't bother answering this question, instead raising his eyebrow at her. 'You being a good patient?'

Patrick snorts, then grimaces in pain. 'Home?'

'Nah ah. You're here for the night. If you're lucky, you'll be out tomorrow.'

'Eh.' The drugs were doing their job as he struggled to keep his eyes open. Teresa leaned down and gave him a soft kiss on the lips. 'Sleep.' Watching him fall into the land of slumber, Teresa continued to bracket his cheek.

When a nurse entered the room a little later, she was greeted with a sleeping patient and the tired face of what was clearly his wife. As the nurse checked everything, Teresa stood up, grabbing her stiff back. Bending down for one last kiss, she left the room to see the team.

'He's sleeping now. The drugs have knocked him out. I'm going to head home now to get Adelaide from the neighbours', but would be most appreciative if someone could ring me when he wakes up again.'

Rigsby and Van Pelt agree to stay at the hospital – they've got enough paperwork to fill out anyway – and Cho takes newbie Lance Nottingham with him back to the station to follow up on this situation.

Three hours later, just after 7pm, after collecting Addy from Kelli's, feeding her, bathing her and finally managing to put her to bed in what felt like a haze, she gets the phone call from Rigsby that Patrick is awake again. Pondering at her present babysitting dilemma, her musings are interrupted by a knock on the door: there stands Cho, a stack of paperwork under his arm, a blank face, and a promise to watch Addy for as long as needed that night.

When Teresa steps into her husband's hospital room half an hour later, it's to a far more alert Patrick. Bending down to kiss him, she brushes his hair from his forehead and looks into his eyes as he grins. 'Feeling better?'

'Oh yes. I'm just peachy here! How about you?'

Teresa groans at his happy tone. Patrick Jane is definitely okay! 'Well, I've got a budding soccer player up my shirt, had a near heart attack about a shooting, I've got a sleeping baby at home who wants her Daddy and a husband who is destined to be a bad patient once again.'

Patrick sobered up instantly. 'Tess, I ...'

'It's fine Patrick. I know it wasn't your fault. You didn't mean to get shot,' brushing hair from her face she continues. 'I'm just tired. Whatever little adrenaline I had in my body has now officially left me.'

Patrick pulls her as close as possible and says 'I love you.' Smiling wanly she responded: 'Love you too.'

'Now where is that nurse. I want my pudding!'

Teresa rolls her eyes as she gets off the bed and sits in the chair beside him. Propping her legs up on the bed frame, she watches Patrick terrorise the poor night nurse that came in. She reprimanded him with a 'Patrick, behave' but when he blatantly ignored her, she gave up.

Watching Patrick eat the three puddings in front of him with gusto, Teresa suddenly feels an urge to throw up. All the hospital smells, exhaustion and food has hit a cumulative boiling point and she drops her legs and bolts for her husband's private bathroom.

Patrick looks up from his tray and listens frantically as he hears Teresa upending her stomach contents in the toilet. Pushing his table away, he gingerly pulls his sheet back as he attempts to get out of bed and help his wife.

By the time Teresa re-enters the room, having washed out the awful sensation from her mouth, he was ready to pull out his IV drip from his hand. 'Patrick what are you doing?!'

'Coming to you Tess. You okay?'

'I'm fine. Smells got to me. Now get back in bed. I want you home tomorrow - so you need to get better.' Patrick can see that his wife is on the verge of an emotional breakdown, so pops back into bed instantly. Teresa is still talking and avoiding eye contact with him as she pulls his sheets up.

Grabbing her hand, Patrick says her name softly. Refusing to make eye contact, Teresa picks at the sheet in front of her. 'Teresa, look at me.' Eyes brimming with tears, Teresa looks up, biting her lower lip. 'I'm still here.' It's too much for her and the floodgates open.

Pulling her toward him, Patrick tells Teresa to get in bed with him. She baulks, but he insists. Laying on the edge of the bed, Patrick tucks her into his body as much as he can with a shoulder wound and needing to work around the pregnancy bump as well.

He holds her as the tears silently run down her cheeks. Kissing her forehead, he sheds a tear or two as well. Once replete, Teresa looks up at him with watery eyes. 'I hate crying.'

Patrick grins in response, brushing her tears away, before pushing her head onto his chest once again. Running his hands through her hair until her breathing evens out, he knows she is sleeping.

Wincing in pain, he buzzes the nurse. Now to deal with that shoulder pain.

He curses inwardly when he discovers the nurse answering his call is the one he abused earlier. Oops! He looks at her glaring face meekly, ready to beg, but the nurse's face softens when she sees him cradling the pregnant woman and readily grants his request for pain relief.

He'd have to thank her for that later!


	4. Baby Jane?

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

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They'd been married for less than four months, and even after the topic of children had come up at a party they'd attended three months ago, Teresa was still unsure how Jane felt about having more children. He hadn't completely rejected the idea, but he hadn't exactly been vocal in his support of it either.

As she sat on the bottom step in the house that she shared, she waited. She'd taken the day off to head to her doctor and the pregnancy had been confirmed: she was nine weeks on.

When Patrick came through the door that night, entering with his corny – but now traditional – 'Honey, I'm hoooommme!' it was to the image of Teresa sitting dejectedly on the stairs in front of him, holding something in her hand.

Removing his jacket, and dumping everything, he approaches his new wife with caution. 'Teresa?'

Looking up at him with tears in her eyes, she wordlessly hands him the photo in her hand, watching his face for a reaction.

Patrick looked bemused at the photo in front of him, before realising what it was: an ultrasound image. 'Teresa ...? Are we sure ...?' he asked in shock.

Teresa nodded, taking his question as a sign of displeasure. Dropping her head, unable to look him in the eye, she whispers softly. 'Nine weeks. Due in May.'

Finally raising his head from looking at the picture in front of him in awe, Patrick takes in the sight of the depressed Teresa sitting in front of him.

Getting down on one knee, he reaches out to raise his wife's chin, so that she is looking him in the eye. 'What's wrong?'

Teresa's tears overflow now as she looks into her husband's concerned eyes. Throwing herself into his arms, Patrick struggles to keep his balance in his awkward kneeling position. His arms wrap around her instantly as he hears her muffled 'I'm sorry.'

Bemused, and then a little angry, he replies. 'Whatever for?'

Teresa continues to mumble into his chest. 'I wasn't sure if you really wanted another baby ... after it all ...'

Patrick now knew exactly what was wrong with his wife now. He stood up, bringing Teresa with him into the lounge room. Seating her on the lounge, he grasps her hands as he sits on the table in front of her.

'Teresa...' Struggling to get words out, he started again. 'Teresa. I had a daughter before. When she died, it hurt like hell. It still does. I'll never forget her, but we've created new life here. I'll never regret that.' Brushing tears from her cheeks with his knuckle, he swears again. 'Never.'

Leaning forward he kisses her through her tears. After a few minutes, Teresa lays her hand on her husband's cheek, resting her forehand against his as she uttered a simple 'thankyou'.

Some time passes as both think about different things, before Patrick reverts back to his usual smiley self. 'Let's get some food into you, eh? You're eating for two now!'

After dinner finds them laying on the lounge together, an exhausted Teresa dozing on Patrick's chest, as he places a hand on her still flat tummy. Patrick lets out a little laugh which rumbles through his chest, reverberating against Teresa's ears. 'What's so funny?' she asks, eyes remaining shut.

'Oh, just thinking of how many kids we'll need to have to make up our own little CBI team of geniuses. Could you imagine the solve rate?' he said gleefully.

Teresa softly slaps his chest with her hand, eyes still closed. 'Try telling that to me after we've gotten through this one.'

'But seriously, how many kids do you want? I've never actually asked,' pondered Patrick.

Teresa opens her eyes now, and rearranges herself so that she can look into her husband's eyes. 'I've always thought that maybe I'd have three or four. Maybe two of each,' she answered carefully. 'What about you?'

'Jacinta wanted more kids, but I told her the time was wrong,' answered Patrick distractedly. 'There was too much at stake with my career to handle another child.'

Mentally shaking himself back into present he takes in Teresa's unwavering gaze. This was why he loved this woman: she put up with everything he threw at her, and still loved him regardless.

Placing his hand on hers he murmurs. 'I could handle three or four. Could you imagine all those little Janes running around?'

Teresa's face broke into a tired smirk. 'Well that is all sorted then!' she said sarcastically. 'I'm not promising anything til this one is done!' she added immediately.

Laughing out loud, Patrick pulled Teresa up his body and brought her head down for a kiss. 'I love you. Both of you.'

'I'll hold you to that when I'm sick as a dog, looking like a beached whale and changing moods at the drop of a hat,' swore Teresa.

'Wouldn't miss it for the world,' was his promise.

And sure enough, when morning sickness began with a vengeance a week later, Patrick was by her side at the toilet bowl. And when Teresa, much to her acute embarrassment, started crying at anything and everything, it was Patrick that pulled her in for a hug every time. And when the mood swings began, and the team gave her a wide berth, Patrick was the only person daring enough to brave her!

**Author's Note:**

For those of you wondering when Patrick and Teresa got married, that will be the basis for another chapter. For some reason this chapter was begging to be written first.

And for those wondering how Jane could be so excited at this discovery, but momentarily leave Lisbon at the hospital when their daughter is born in 'Baby Adelaide', chalk it up to the reality of the whole situation finally hitting him as he realises that he's moving on with a new wife and daughter, and thus leaving his old wife and daughter behind.


	5. Killer Kissinger

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

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Agent Teresa Lisbon is nearing the end of her eighth month of pregnancy, and maternity leave is beckoning. She'd spent the last two months on desk duty, and even before then, her tasks had been limited to things that wouldn't put her in danger – though she and Patrick Jane had had quite a few arguments about what 'staying out of danger' meant.

Jane was even more protective than usual when a serial killer had struck in California – a serial killer that was going around killing pregnant mothers. There had been seventeen deaths to date.

The FBI and another CBI team were working the case in a joint operation. They'd even brought in a team of behaviour analysts and psychologists to try and determine who the killer might be. Now finally, after four months of work, they had a suspect: Agent Brady Kissinger, an FBI agent stationed in California working the 'Mum Killer' case.

Their plan for determining if Agent Kissinger is in fact the serial killer is to put him face to face with a pregnant woman in the workplace and see how he reacts. When Jane finds out that they'd picked Lisbon as the agent to do the questioning, and that she'd agreed to it, he lost his cool and stormed into her office, not caring that he is interrupting a phone call that she is having with the agent in charge of the operation.

'You're not doing this Teresa,' he yelled, yanking the phone out of her hand and hanging up the call.

'Excuse me?' steamed Lisbon, standing up and placing her hands on the desk in front of her, going nose to nose with Patrick Jane. 'You can't tell me what I can and cannot do,'

'The killer is out there killing pregnant women. I'm not putting you near a guy that may be a serial killer. I won't let you do it.'

'I will be perfectly safe here. There are agents everywhere, and everyone will be watching it. They'll be video cameras set up, and I'll be wearing an earpiece. It will be fine.'

Frustrated that she wasn't stepping down, Jane fumed. 'You can't be sure of that. Anything could happen.' Taking in the sight of his little fireball with her arms now crossed over her chest, resting on her swollen abdomen, he lowered his tone. 'I can't lose you,' he uttered softly.

'That's exactly why I have to do it. Jane – this bastard is going around killing women who are just like me, and I'll be damned if I'm going to stand aside if I can do anything.'

Staring into her unwavering eyes he admitted defeat. 'I'm not going to be able to change your mind am I?'

'I don't like your odds' agreed Lisbon, uncrossing her arms.

'I want to be on the other end of that earpiece,' Jane added firmly.

Looking at him exasperatedly, Lisbon responded. 'If you hadn't hung up my phone call before, you would have known that I was telling Special Agent Humphries that you would be the one feeding me the instructions.'

Having the grace to look a little sheepish, Jane personally hands his wife the phone when it rings again. Taking a seat opposite her desk as she takes the call, he waits for her to finalise the details for the operation. Conversation complete, she turned to Jane. 'It's going ahead.'

Sighing heavily, he walked around her desk and knelt before her. Grasping her hands he looked her in the eye. 'Promise me you won't do anything stupid. So help me god, if anything happens to you...'

'It will be fine,' she promises, squeezing his hands. 'Now get out of here, I've got things I need to do.'

****************

Two days later finds Agent Lisbon seated in her office, decked out in dark clothes to hide her pregnancy as much as she can.

There were three hidden cameras in the office, and she had on an earpiece. Jane was at the other end of it, sharing a room with two profilers that he'd spent the last two days hounding and playing mind games with. Needless to say they weren't too impressed that Jane would be calling the shots to Lisbon, but knew they had no choice.

With Jane's cheery 'Let's get this show on the road' Agent Brady Kissinger is called for.

Knocking on Lisbon's door, Agent Kissinger has arrived. 'Agent Lisbon? You wanted to see me?'

Looking up at the new arrival, Lisbon instantly felt distaste and a sense of ugliness about the man. Pushing it aside, she issued her instructions. 'Yes I did. Please be seated.'

Once he was seated, she continued. 'The 'Mum killer' case is being transferred to the Homicide division now. My team will be leading the investigation. You'll be my team liaison to the FBI. Tell me what you know.'

As Kissinger outlines the basic facts of the case, it becomes clear that this is no ordinary serial killer. He was not making any mistakes. With the order from the shrinks around him to tell Lisbon to reveal her pregnancy, Jane relays 'belly' to Lisbon.

As Kissinger starts to wrap up his brief, Lisbon asks a question about the killer's MO and any links that there might be between victims. 'How are they being selected, and how are they being killed?'

Kissinger launches into a superficial explanation of the modus operandi and victimology, whilst Lisbon continues to nod at his comments before abruptly standing up and heading toward her filing cabinet.

Her tight top does little to hide the fact that she was pregnant, and her bump is even more apparent in profile. The shrinks had gone into a tizzy around Jane when they'd noticed Kissinger's reaction to Lisbon. He was displaying a huge degree of lust and anger. Tensing as he realised that Agent Kissinger was in fact most likely the serial killer, and that he was now in a room with his woman, Jane nevertheless kept his voice neutral as he continued to relay instructions.

When she'd leaned down to retrieve a file, Kissinger had stopped talking. Picking up on the silence, Teresa turned to him. 'You were saying?'

Laughing, the agent shook his head. 'Sorry, just lost my line of thought. How far along are you?'

'Eight months.'

'Better be careful. There's a killer out there.'

'Oh. He has a thing for last month pregnancies then, does he?'

'Yes,' was Kissinger's quick response - just a little too quick.

Sitting down once again, she follows Jane's orders to make her pregnancy as obvious as possible. Each movement saw a change in intonation from the agent in front of her as he struggled to remain on topic. Each time she rubs her belly or comments on how her child is kicking, Kissinger gets distracted and drops the conversation. Lisbon is quick to fire back questions – some fed by Jane, and others self-guided – as Kissinger fumbles.

Knowing they need more than this, Lisbon prepares to take a risk. She needs to get into his personal space. It could backfire badly on her, but if it stops the bastard from killing more women, then it's justified.

Praying that her husband wouldn't shoot her later, the next time Baby Jane kicks she makes it as obvious as possible. When Kissinger flounders, she stands up, places her hands on the desk and leans close toward him as she slams another question at him.

What Lisbon sees next sends a chill through her bones. Brady Kissinger's face morphs from the mild mannered agent into the cold look of a killer. Wondering for a second if perhaps she'd gone too far, Lisbon freezes, unable to move.

Meanwhile in his room, Jane knows that something is wrong. Whilst it didn't look like Agent Kissinger was moving, he knew his wife's expressions well. Something wasn't right. Making his concerns known to the shrinks and agents around him, he is ignored under the guise that they need more.

When the killer lunges toward her, all Lisbon can do is watch him coming at her. But just before he can touch her, Cho throws open the door and Rigsby wrenches the man away from his boss. Kissinger struggles against Rigsby as he faces Lisbon. 'You could have been my number twenty one,' he spat out.

As Kissinger is taken away in cuffs by the FBI, Lisbon sags back into her chair, one hand resting on her belly and the other propping up her head.

'You okay boss?' Nodding in Cho's direction, she struggles to get her thoughts together when Agent Humphries enters the room with his congratulations. 'We'll take Kissinger for interrogation now.'

Nodding as the agent left, and unable to fight the urge to retch any longer, she reaches for her trash can and upends the contents of her stomach. This nausea that had been building up ever since Brady Kissinger had entered her office and she'd known without a doubt that this was the serial killer.

This is the sight that Patrick Jane is greeted with when he dashes into the room and pushes past Cho, Rigsby and the newly arrived van Pelt to enter her office. As teammates look on in sympathy, Jane quickly makes his way over to hold back her hair. Accepting van Pelt's offer of a tissue, he helps her to stand.

Suddenly weak, Lisbon leans back against him. 'Don't you ever ask me to do that again.' Knowing better than to correct her, he simply runs his hands up over her arms. Lisbon hated public displays of affection, but in this case she was willing to allow it, even needed it, to get rid of the awful sensations post-interview.

When the head shrink entered the office soon after, he congratulated both Jane and Lisbon on their work. 'Honestly, I had very little hope of success with you two. I swore that some of that man's prompts were going to get to you wrong, but amazingly it worked. The two of you could certainly teach my newbies lessons on communication.'

Lisbon shook the psychologist's hand, as Jane offered up his services as a teacher any day! The shrink left with a promise that they'll see the bastard goes away for a long time.

Stepping out of Jane's embrace, Lisbon orders her team back to work. The operation was over, but there was plenty more to be done. Knowing that arguing with her would be futile, Jane swore that he'd get her home that night at a reasonable hour.

Sure enough, come five o'clock Jane suddenly shot up off his lounge, startling van Pelt, as he imperiously declares to all that it is 'Hometime!' and ushers Lisbon out the door, refusing to listen to her complaints of unfinished paperwork.

Lisbon rebels against Jane the whole drive home, and continues to complain about his treatment when they enter their house. But Jane has the last laugh when he finds Lisbon sound asleep on the couch as he came to fetch her for dinner.


	6. Leisel

Disclaimer: I own nothing, except my invented Jane children.

**Warning: **Might need to get the tissue box handy.

***************

Patrick Jane had always wondered which was worse: having someone you loved suddenly ripped from your life without a chance to say farewell, or being able to say your goodbyes, but still knowing that death will inevitably come.

As he slid the furniture, hitting the floor hard but not caring, he laughed harshly. Well, now he knew.

When they'd discovered that Teresa was pregnant for the fourth time, it was a shock to say the least, especially with Sorcha only eight months old, but they'd been excited nonetheless. Their joy had been cut short when a routine ultrasound at six months at revealed that their unborn daughter had problems with her heart, and may not live long, let alone survive the birth.

As they'd struggled through the next three months, thankful each day their baby was still kicking, Teresa and Patrick Jane prepared themselves as best as they could for what could be a traumatic birth. The birth was scheduled as a caesarean, as the doctors weren't sure if their baby's heart would be able to handle a natural birth, but when Teresa went into labour, four days before the operation, it was a mad dash to the hospital at 2am in the morning.

He'd never been so thankful to hear a noise as when his new daughter's cry hit his ears at 3:17am that morning after an emergency caesarean. She'd been so small, and she'd been whisked off to intensive care straight away, but he was relieved to know that she was alive. Several tests later, they'd been advised that there was nothing they could do to fix the heart problems, and that the day would come when their newborn daughter would die. It was only a matter of time. His heart had sank at the news and all he could do was pull Teresa close to him as they both looked down at the child covered in wires before them.

Leisel Freya Jane was born on the third day of February in the year 2015. She managed to live for nine months before she died in her sleep on the nineteenth day of November, 2015. He'd known the instant he'd awoken that morning that something was not right. He didn't want to remember how he'd felt when he'd entered the room to find her still body in the cot.

Fiercely brushing tears away that threatened to fall from his eyes, Patrick remembered Sorcha's second birthday party two weeks ago. It had been three days before Leisel died.

Sorcha was dressed up as a fairy for her party and Adelaide and Marta had decided to dress up too. When he and Teresa had gone searching for their missing children that afternoon, they'd laughed out loud when they'd found them and quickly grabbed a camera to take a shot. Adelaide had on her father's vest and shoes (looking huge on her tiny feet), Marta had on her mother's only pair of high heels and a fluffy boa (though Lord knows where it came from) and Sorcha had on her fairy outfit. Someone had placed a huge wide brim hat on Leisel's small head as she looked around from her lying position on the floor with a two-teethed grin.

The four of them hadn't realised they had an audience, and so the picture Patrick and Teresa had snapped was true art in motion. When Leisel had died in her sleep three nights later, this photo of the four Jane children playing dress up took the place of honour at the funeral.

They'd all been hit hard by the loss of Leisel. Two year old Sorcha kept asking for 'Lee-dul' and didn't understand why she wasn't there. An almost four year old Marta knew that her baby sister had gone somewhere and wasn't coming back, but it was the five and a half year old Adelaide that understood the situation best, and had closed herself off to all going around her.

The past week had seen a constant flow of traffic in and out of the house. Teresa's brothers and their families had come to town to support her, Cho had taken it upon himself to keep the Jane kids occupied as much as he could, and van Pelt and Rigsby kept them supplied with food.

He'd pushed aside his own dark thoughts and shattered feelings so that he could be strong for everyone. Keeping an eye on his remaining three children – especially Adelaide – and always watching his wife was taking his toll on him. He'd almost broken at the funeral today, but had stood there stoically as he looked forward at the little casket in front of them all. Teresa had held Marta and Sorcha close in her arms as tears ran down her cheeks, but Adelaide had stood beside him, hand firmly in his as neither shed a tear.

And so tonight, in the wee hours of the morning, as he leaned against Leisel's now empty and cold cot, he let the tears flow. With one leg outright and the other leg bent upright, he propped up his arm and quietly sobbed for his departed daughter, wondering at why this had happened.

It was Adelaide who climbed out of her bed and made her way to her father that night. Climbing into his lap, she threw her arms around his neck and buried herself into his chest as she too finally allowed herself to cry as her father held her close.

It wasn't until two hours later that Patrick Jane finally stood up, his sleeping daughter in his arms, and left the room. He put Adelaide to bed, pulling up her sheets around her and tucking her in as he kissed her good night, before moving next door to check on Marta and Sorcha.

Not quite ready to enter his bedroom where he knew his exhausted wife was sleeping, he made his way into the lounge room where that photo of his four daughters playing dress up lay on the table. Picking it up, and brushing the face of Leisel, he moved toward the fireplace. Shifting the bits and pieces that littered the mantle, he placed the photo in the centre.

Standing back, looking at the photo, Patrick Jane made a promise to himself: he would be strong. He would get through this.

He didn't know how long he stood there, the moonlight somehow falling just in the right place to clearly illuminate the photo. He didn't move when he felt Teresa enter the room until she was close enough and reached out her hand to him.

Pulling her close, he looks through his red, swollen eyes to find their partner in his wife's eyes. Shifting her, he turns them both to look at the photo that would remain on the mantle for a long time to come. 'I can't cry anymore,' whispers Teresa. Nodding his head, he pulls her even closer. 'Even though we knew it was going to happen, it didn't make it any easier,' he responded in pain.

When the rays of dawn filtered into the room, it crept over the two bodies slumbering on the lounge, ready to launch a new day.


	7. Streetlight

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

**Author's Note: **Just a light, fluffy little moment in the life of the Jane family.

**************

Yawning for what felt like the millionth time in the past ten minutes, Patrick Jane runs his hand over his face and forces himself to focus on the road before him, dark streets lit by streetlights flashing over the windscreen every so often.

The last week had been a holiday away for the Jane family, and now as they drove back home everyone was exhausted. Flicking his eyes to his to his wife reclining in the passenger seat next to him, he notices that her eyes are firmly shut, head tilted downward in his direction.

'Hey. You awake?' he asks softly.

'No,' was the mumbled response he got as Teresa lifted her head.

'I need company.'

Looking blearily at her husband, Teresa gestured to their three kids in the back. 'You've got company.'

'They're asleep,' said Patrick in a succinct tone, as if this was plainly obvious.

Yawning, Teresa shifted in her chair trying to get comfortable. 'You never specified that company had to be awake.'

'Well unless you want me to crash on this homestretch, I suggest you start talking.'

'About what?' she asked tiredly.

'I don't know. Seen any good movies lately?' said Patrick with a grin, getting a sudden flashback to another car scene from years ago.

Willing to play along, Teresa responded with a smirk. 'Well, there was one movie that I watched recently. Not sure if you've heard of it. _High School Musical 5: Reunion._ It's not too bad if I don't say so myself.'

Patrick groaned when he heard the move title. His three monsters had decided that this was their new favourite movie and had insisted that they watch it every day. He'd gone to sleep with the lyrics in his head, and had woken up with the lyrics in his head for weeks.

'If they ever make a sixth one, our children are not having access to it,' he said with a tone of finality.

Teresa snorted in response. 'I'd like to see you try it.'

'It's okay for you. You love all of this musical mumbo jumbo garbage. Meanwhile, I'm suffering here!' he declared in a dramatic tone.

Patting his thigh in mock sympathy, Teresa left her hand resting comfortably there as she covered up a yawn with her other hand. Further conversation is halted by a little cry from the back. 'Daddy?'

Keeping his eye on the road, he leans his head back a little. 'Yeah baby?'

'I gotta go to toilet.'

It is Teresa who responds. 'Can you hold it sweetheart? We're almost home.'

'No Mummy. I gotta go,' was the response from six year old Marta. 'I can't hold it.'

Sharing a look with his wife, Patrick looks for a service station to pull over into. This was not a disaster that they needed.

A little ways up the road he quickly pulls into a service station. Parking the car, he turns in his seat to Teresa. When he makes no move to leave the car, Teresa looks at him in disbelief. 'Me?'

'You've got the right equipment my dear!' Sending him a dirty look, Teresa steps out of the car and helps Marta from the car. 'Come on sweetheart.'

Watching as they made their way to the toilet, Patrick checks on his other two children still sleeping in the back seat. Eight year old Adelaide sat in the middle seat with her head resting on four year old Sorcha's car seat. Smiling softly, he turned back to watching the service station where a skipping Marta is leading her mother back to the car.

With Marta strapped in and Teresa seated once again, Patrick started the car and the Jane family rejoined the highway, heading home.


	8. Tess

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

**Author's Note: **It's pre-relationship and pre-Adelaide, but it fits in my alternate universe as it reveals when Patrick Jane first calls Teresa Lisbon 'Tess'.

****************

The anniversary of the death of his wife and child finds Patrick Jane alone, drowning his sorrows at a bar. Upon arrival, he'd paid the barman $50 upfront to keep them coming, and he'd willingly relinquished his car keys after his fifth drink. He was now ploughing his way through god knows what number drink.

It is Teresa Lisbon who steps in the door and heads over to the glaze-eyed patron at the bar later that night. Struggling to focus on the new arrival, Jane suddenly shuts out her name once he realises who it is. 'Lisbon. Have a drink!'

Figuring that Jane would of course be a happy drunk, Lisbon winces at the loudness of his yell as she takes a seat next to him. Ordering lemonade she prepares to pay the barman, but when he places the drink in front of her, she is surprised when he declares it on the house. 'If you take this fellow with you, that's payment enough. You're the best thing to walk into his life I reckon. That's the happiest I've seen him in these past three years.'

Realising that even after a few, Jane still felt the need to keep his shield up around her, Lisbon somberly accepted her drink, sitting beside Jane in silence. When Lisbon doesn't respond to his usual jibes, Jane's ramblings turn to other patrons at the bar as he cheerily spouts of random facts and nonsense.

Three drinks later for Jane finds Lisbon declaring that it's time to go home. It's like these words were magical words that slipped straight through the alcohol-induced haze and straight to the sarcastic centre of Patrick Jane as he reverted his happy – albeit drunk – attentions back to the woman beside him. 'Listen to that, boys. She's taking me home! Whoo!' he declared to no one in particular.

Calling over the barman, she realises that Patrick has exceeded his tab. Unable to get Jane focused enough to hand her his wallet, she looks through the jacket slung carelessly over the back of his bar stool. Finding no wallet, she pushes him off his seat as she slips her hands into his vest pockets. When she runs her hands around and down to the back pockets of his pants, she startles when Patrick gives an almighty yell. 'Officer! Officer! Indecent assault.'

Knowing he won't remember anything the following day, but so wishing she could bring it up again, Lisbon rolls her eyes and ignores him. Determining that his wallet was in his front pocket, and wondering why the hell it had to be the front one, Lisbon struggled to insert her hand into his front pocket as Jane continued to flail about.

Finally accessing the desired object, she turns to the grinning barman to settle the tab. Pocketing his wallet in her own pants, she watches the barman head down the bar to retrieve Jane's car keys. Her surveillance is interrupted when Jane plasters himself at her back and places his hands on either side of hers on the bar. 'Oh barman, sweet barman!' Turning in the circle of his arms, Lisbon placed her hands on his chest to brace him up in a bid to prevent her own potential suffocation. As Jane wraps his arms around her in a firm hug and refuses to let go, Lisbon manages to get a hand free to reach for the keys the barman holds out. 'We'll come back for the car tomorrow.'

'That's fine,' nodded the barman. 'Good luck!' As he watched the young lady pick up the suit jacket and lead the drunken man out the door, he conceded that she was going to need it. Fingers crossed that he wouldn't have the gentleman in his bar again come next year.

Driving to her place, suspecting that Jane wouldn't want to handle his own house tonight, Lisbon watches as said man rests his head back against the passenger seat, eyes shut. He is silent at last, but she finds herself missing his usually annoying noise and presence.

Reaching her apartment, she opens his door and leads him by the hand into her flat. Guiding him to the spare room, she's unable to halt his momentum as he pitches face first onto the bed. Knowing he would be too heavy for her to move, she contents herself with removing his shoes and carefully reaching under him to unbutton his vest buttons. Not willing to venture further south to unbuckle his belt, Lisbon pulls the edges of the doona over him, before she departs the room to leave him to sleep it off.

****************

Entering her kitchen the following morning for her morning shot of caffeine, hair rumpled and still clad in her pyjamas, Teresa Lisbon is annoyed to find a bright, chirpy and impeccably dressed Patrick Jane making himself at home in her kitchen. He's sipping a cup of coffee and reading the paper as she heads over to him. 'Good morning sunshine,' he declares, pushing a cup of coffee her way.

Readily accepting the coffee he offered, Lisbon grouched. 'How can you look and feel that good after last night?'

'It's the genes my dear. It's the genes!' laughs Jane in response. But the amusement leaves his face momentarily as he grows serious. 'Tess. Thanks for last night.'

Not quite sure how to respond to all of this, Lisbon nods her head, avoids his eyes and takes a sip of her coffee as she turns to go about making breakfast. Jane hadn't expected an answer from Lisbon, but as he watches her flit around the kitchen, he was certain that both he and their relationship had taken a turn for the better.


	9. Piercings

Disclaimer: I own nothing, except my own creations.

**************

Comfortable sitting on the couch with his wife lying back against his chest as they watch the late night news, Patrick Janw realised that Mother Nature is unfortunately calling. As her head is dislodged as he heaves up, Teresa struggles to rearrange herself as she calls after the rapidly departing Patrick. 'Check that Addy's lights are out will you?'

'Yes sir!' Patrick actually sent her a salute as he left the room. Rolling her eyes, she turned back to the news, her body already missing her husband's heat.

Ablutions complete, Patrick stops by the room of his eldest daughter who is propped up on her pillows, thoroughly engrossed in a book. 'Bed time squirt,' said Patrick, knocking on the doorframe.

'But, Dad...' said his daughter in complaint.

'Uh uh. You've got school tomorrow.' Adelaide grumbled as she marked her page and placed the book on her bedside table.

'Good night sweetheart,' said Patrick preparing to flick the light switch, but his actions are halted by a call from the bed. 'Dad?'

'Hmm?' said Patrick standing in the doorway.

'Can I get my belly button pierced for my birthday?' asked his daughter hopefully. 'I'll be old enough then.'

'Sure you'll be old enough, but you're not getting your belly button pierced,' said Patrick firmly, stepping into the room.

'But why not?' whined Adelaide. 'Amber Ranieri's parents are going to let her.'

'Do I look like Mr and Mrs Ranieri?' queried Patrick.

'Well with a bit of help you could,' grumbled Adelaide.

'You doofus,' said Patrick, mussing her hair. 'Sorry sweetheart. Answer's still no.' Kissing her forehead, he leaves the room, turning off the light.

Returning back to the lounge room, he pushes Teresa up and over a little as he takes his seat again. As Teresa leans back against his chest, feet stretched out on the length of the couch, Patrick runs his hands through her hair as they both watch the news.

'Adelaide wants to get her belly button pierced for her birthday,' declared Patrick, breaking the silence.

'What did you tell her?' asked Teresa, angling her head upward.

'No,' said Patrick as if it were the most obvious thing. 'There's no way my fourteen year old child will be getting piercings.'

'I'm with you on the belly button point,' conceded Teresa, 'But are you preventing her from all of them?'

'Well, for now!' said Patrick indignantly.

'I remember wanting to get a second piercing when I was a teenager,' mused Teresa. 'Dad said no, and so I went and did it regardless.'

'Tess, you disobeyed your parents?!' said Patrick in mock horror as she grinned and slapped his chest. 'Let's just put it this way, when I came home with seven piercings on one ear and eight on the other, Dad wasn't too impressed.'

'You had fourteen, no fifteen, piercings?' he said disbelievingly.

'Hmm. Didn't last long though cos two of them got infected and it spread, so I was left with six in one ear and four in the other,' laughed Teresa. 'Karma I guess!'

'But still...!' stuttered Patrick.

'Perhaps we should offer Adelaide the chance to get a second piercing on her ears for her birthday. Hmm?' she negotiated.

'Perhaps,' agreed Patrick grudgingly. 'But that's it,' he added fiercely.

'Settle petal!' said Teresa. Giving him a quick kiss, she stituated herself back against his chest once again as Patrick placed his arm over her shoulder to rest against her stomach. As she folded her fingers into his, he kissed the top of her head as they both revel in the blessed quietness of the house which was very much a rare occurrence these days!


	10. Breathe

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

*************

It was the heat that hit her first. The thick, oppressive heat that made breathing akin to swimming through a pea-soup bog.

It wasn't supposed to be a dangerous outing. All they'd needed to do was simply interview a few staff about the mysterious going-ons at the docks where three women had been found dead in a container two days earlier. And instead, Lisbon and van Pelt now found themselves locked in a refrigerated container with their air supply fast running out.

They'd spent the greater part of last hour futilely banging on the container walls and yelling for help in the hope that someone would hear them. With no cell phone reception, no vents and rising heat, their odds of rescue were steadily decreasing.

With the heat now at an unbearable level, both agents remove their jackets and roll up their pants in an attempt to be cool. When Lisbon sits down and pulls off her shoes, van Pelt stops her from standing once again. 'Preserve your energy and the oxygen,' said the younger agent. 'It's not just you we need to look out for here.' Looking down at her six month pregnant belly, Lisbon reluctantly agrees that van Pelt has a point. Seating herself once again, Lisbon watches van Pelt continuing to bang the walls and shout for assistance.

An hour later, van Pelt is exhausted. Giving up on banging the walls, and with her throat rubbed raw from the yelling, she slides down the wall to be seated opposite Lisbon. Throwing a glance over at her boss, she grows concerned when she sees Lisbon grabbing her stomach, pain lining her features. 'Are you okay?' asked van Pelt worriedly.

'I'm fine,' said Lisbon through clenched teeth. 'Just some nausea.'

Nodding her head doubtfully, but knowing there is nothing she can do, van Pelt sends conversation in another direction. 'Jane and Rigsby will be back from interviewing the fiancée by now, and hopefully Cho would have figured out we'd been missing for a while,' said van Pelt optimistically. 'They know we're at the docks, so they should be here anytime now.'

Unable to respond with the same optimism, Lisbon rests her head back against the wall, sweat pouring down her face as she expects the worse. Even if her team did get here, and they figured out that they were locked in a container, how were they going to figure out which one they were in? They docks were lined with thousands of containers identical to the one they were currently trapped in.

It's now getting harder to breathe inside the sealed container, and both women are fighting to stay awake. When Lisbon slips into unconsciousness, van Pelt crawls across the floor frantically to the other side. 'Boss. Lisbon. Boss...' she called, shaking Lisbon's shoulder. 'You've got to stay awake.' Heaving a sigh of relief when Lisbon finally opens her eyes a few seconds later, van Pelt sat down beside her. 'We've got to stay awake.'

Things take a turn for the worse seconds later when a bang sounds and the container shakes. 'What was that?' said van Pelt, looking upward fearfully. 'That would be the dock crane,' was Lisbon's slurred response. As the container above them is lifted, van Pelt offers hope. 'Maybe it won't take this one?'

But minutes later, the crane is back. As if sensing their mother's distress, the baby begins kicking furiously as Lisbon struggles to stay awake and van Pelt looks to the container roof as the crane hooks on. Turning to her boss, van Pelt swears as she realises that Lisbon has fallen unconscious again. Tossing up between trying to wake up her boss and alerting the crane driver to their existence, the decision is made for her when the container begins to move. Gathering up every bit of energy she has, van Pelt weakly hits the container wall as the container begins to lift and sway.

Five weak hits later she comes to the realisation that her attempts are futile. Feeling so very tired, and accepting that it is now highly likely that they were going to die, van Pelt closed her eyes. She might as well rest...

...the next time van Pelt opens her eyes she looks around sluggishly. What was going on? And then it hits her, the container has stopped moving. _Were they on a ship? _She throws up her arms weakly, making a tiny echoing sound as her hand collides with the wall. 'Help...' she calls weakly. 'We're in here...'

When a sliver of light makes it's way across the floor, van Pelt couldn't be sure she wasn't hallucinating. But when the fresh air – the glorious fresh air – hit her van Pelt knew it was for real. Hearing her pregnant boss's groans next to her, she finds energy within herself that she didn't realise she had and struggles to her feet, bracing herself up against the wall as she makes slow steps forward.

The door is thrown fully open and light floods the container. A tall figure fills the opening as van Pelt takes another step and sways. Fearing the next thing she felt would be the floor, van Pelt throws her arms out in front of her. The heavy impact never came as Rigsby wraps his arms around her and pulls her toward the light. Everything was a haze, but van Pelt knows she needs to remember something. 'Boss...' she says weakly, pointing to the other side of the container.

'It's okay, Jane and Cho will get her,' promises Rigsby as he leads her outside. She sees Jane and Cho dash past them, before she buries her head into Rigsby's chest at the sudden light and allows him to lead her to the ambulance where an officer is ready with an oxygen mask.

Minutes later, and able to think clearly again, van Pelt furiously pulls the mask away from her face. 'Where's Lisbon?' she asks frantically. Rigsby pats her shoulder and points over at the other ambulance, as her ambulance officer spoke up. 'Your boss got lucky,' he said. 'Couple more minutes and I'm not sure either of them would have been around.'

Van Pelt nods her distractedly as she tries to see past them. She had to see with her own two eyes that Lisbon was okay. Rigsby shifts, and then she has a clear line of sight. There sat her boss on a stretcher, hand gripping an oxygen mask as she takes in deep breaths. Lisbon is leaning back against Patrick Jane, who's standing behind the stretcher, arms over her form and resting on her thighs, as he cocoons her in his arms.

Content that her boss is okay and in good hands, van Pelt sits back and allows the ambulance officer to place the oxygen mask over her mouth once again.

Meanwhile over at the other ambulance, Teresa Lisbon is trying to regulate her breathing. She wasn't going to admit it, but this incident had scared her more than she appreciated. When Jane and Cho had assisted her out of the container, the fresh air had brutally assaulted her as she stepped outside, and she'd blindly struggled to get out of their grip as she leaned over to retch.

And now as she sat on the stretcher, gripping the oxygen mask as a lifeline, she realises that Patrick is talking, but she has no idea what he is saying. Removing her hand from her abdomen, she grips his lower arm as she tilts her head upward, eyes relaying her lack of understanding.

Patrick Jane shifts himself to sit down next to her, her hand still gripping his arm as he raises his other hand to squeeze hers. Removing her hand from his arm, he rearranges himself so that he now has both of his arms propped up on either side of Lisbon once again, but this time facing her. Never taking her hand from him, Lisbon grips his arm once again as Patrick looks her in the eyes, and says all he needs to say quite clearly: 'You're going on desk duty.'

All Lisbon can do is lean forward and rest her head against Patrick's chest as she breathes in again. There would be time enough for this.


	11. Sorcha Gwendolyn Jane aka Brit

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

*******************

_Annabeth Archer Cohen – Miss Cohen to her students – put aside yet another paper with a disappointed sigh._

_Two weeks into her work placement and she'd issued her first assignment to her tenth grade class: write about yourself and your family. She'd been hoping for some well written papers with more information than just their name, date of birth, family details, pets and favourite things. _

_But unfortunately, a quarter of the way through her stack, she was yet to find one that was actually interesting to read. Who would have thought that fifteen year olds didn't like writing about themselves?!_

_Picking up the next paper, she pushed her glasses up her nose and hoped that maybe this one would be a winner..._

My name is Sorcha Gwendolyn Jane, but my nickname is Brit – because Sorcha is Irish, Gwendolyn is Welsh, and even through Jane is apparently Hebrew, it sounds more English to me, and so there you have it, I'm Great Britain personified.

I was born on 16 November 2013. Apparently I was a risk baby, because Mum and Dad only found out about my existence when Mum was involved in a car crash, but I reckon I turned out okay!

I'm the youngest kid in my family. It wasn't always that way as I had a younger sister named Leisel but she died when I was 2 from a problem with her heart. I can't remember much, but I've been told that I used to call her 'Lee-dul' and we've got a photo of her on our mantle.

I also have two older sisters: Adelaide who is 18 and Marta who is 17. Dad always complains that he needs a son to boost up the non-existent testosterone levels in the house, and calls himself a rose between thorns, but we know he's just joking.

Dad was married before, and he had another daughter too, but they died long before Dad met my Mum. I'm not allowed to know what happened to them until my sixteenth birthday, and so now I have to wait nine months and four days to find out more!

Addy and Mar are closer in age, but Mar and I share a really close bond. We've been sharing a bedroom for almost thirteen years!

My mum's name is Teresa and my dad's name is Patrick. They both work at the California Bureau of Investigation.

Dad's the funny one in our family, and all of us kids got the funny gene, though Mum reckons it should be called the sarcastic gene instead! Mum can be funny too, but Dad reckons the best thing about her is the way she can make grown men cry!

People always assume that Mum is the strict one and Dad's arm can be twisted – but it's the other way around: Mum's a big old softie and Dad's the one you need to watch out for – especially if he says your full name. That definitely means you're in trouble.

I look like Mum with my dark hair, pale skin and dark eyes, but the one thing that I definitely got from Dad was my height. I'm 178cm tall, and I was the same height as Mum by the time I was 13.

When I grow up, I want to work at the CBI – just like Mum and Dad do. I'm good at solving mysteries and I love getting inside someone's head. Plus you get a gun.

I'm a really affectionate person and I love to hug everyone. I also really love my sleep, and always sleep through my alarms in the morning.

My favourite colour is purple and my favourite animals are dinosaurs, but unfortunately there's no chance of me having a real live one as a pet. Maybe one day?

My favourite television show is 'So You Think You Can Dance'. I know that I can't dance, but that doesn't mean that I can't enjoy watching other people do it. My favourite dance genre is Broadway – I mean, what's not to love?! Contemporary has me rubbing my head in confusion though.

My favourite internet show is Pip Astaire PD. What's not to love: hot male lead, sexy female lead, witty sidekicks and a teenager with an attitude all set in a police station. Addy reckons I'm obsessed, but Mar's the one who drools every time Agent Hendricks comes on screen. Mum always complains they never show police work properly and Dad always has some smartarse comment to make, but I don't really care. It's magic! And it makes my Thursday nights!

And so that is a brief history of the life of Sorcha Gwendolyn Jane, aka Brit, the 15 year old extraordinaire.

_Taking off her glasses, Annabeth Archer Cohen pushed the paper aside. Well, what would you know - there was hope yet for Form 10G._


	12. J4

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

******************

It's a slow day at the office as Patrick Jane lays back on his couch, presumably asleep. In fact, the whole week had been slow, and so even Kimball Cho – now Agent in Charge – was finding it hard to keep busy, and had resorted to reading a novel with his feet propped up on his desk, an activity he had not had opportunity to partake in recently.

Where before he lay on the couch pretending to be asleep, and if he was completely honest as a means to avoid doing any work and keeping well out of range of Agent Lisbon, he now relished his 'quiet time' on the couch as it was pretty much the only time in any given day that he was got peace and quiet.

Hold that thought...

His apparent sleep is interrupted when his ears perk up at a new noise - a noise that is swiftly followed by two little bodies hitting the edge of his couch. 'Wake up Daddy!' crowed two and a half year old Marta.

Cracking an eye open he grins at his two daughters now standing in front of him. Rising up slightly, he turns to prop himself up on his elbow. 'Now what are we doing here?' he asks as he runs his other hand over their hair, Addy scowling at the movement and Marta bouncing on the balls of her feet with excitement.

'Daddy work!' piped up Marta as Addy fixed her eyes on him with a searching look. 'You don't seem to be working very hard though,' said the four year old with her head on an angle.

'No sweetheart,' said a new voice. 'That's how Daddy works.' Patrick laughs sarcastically as he sits up and looks at his wife standing next to van Pelt's desk as owner of that said piece of furniture didn't bother to hide her snort either.

'I'm going to work like Daddy,' declares his oldest as she jumped up onto the lounge and Marta tries to scramble up after. 'Me too! Me too!' Giving Marta a boost up to assist her climb, Patrick looks as his two daughters both lie down next to each other and close their eyes.

'I'm working!' declares his middle child gleefully.

'No Mar, you've got to do it like this,' said Addy in a patronising tone to her younger sister. 'Arms cross over and head back...'

Leaving them to argue about the correct manner to 'work', and ignoring the laughs around him at his expense, Patrick slides off the couch onto his knees in order to coax his recently grounded youngest daughter to him. 'Come to Daddy sweetheart,' he calls with his arms open. 'You're not laughing at Daddy like these mean people are you?' he continues.

A look of triumph swiftly changes to a look of despair as his nine month old crawls toward him at a breakneck speed before she diverts and grabs a desk leg as she tries to stand up on her own two feet. Rigsby slaps him on the back as Patrick stands up faking dejection. 'Tough luck mate.'

He has to resist the urge to poke his tongue out as Teresa Lisbon makes his way over toward him. 'You right to handle them for half an hour or so?' asks his wife.

'Can do,' he responds, giving her a quick kiss as she passes him with a pat on his chest and leaves the bullpen, his eyes already focused on the unbalanced baby wobbling on her unsteady feet as she reaches out a hand to her father's pant leg. Swooping down to pick up Sorcha, Patrick takes a seat on the couch once again as the team huddles around. Rigsby seats himself on the edge of Lance Nottingham's desk as van Pelt makes her way over and Cho ever so quietly slips into the bullpen and takes a seat at a spare desk, opening his novel up once again.

Patrick places Sorcha on his lap, balanced against the couch arm rest, as he pulls his two other giggling 'workers' toward him. He seats his children next to him on the couch in turn: 'J1!' he declares as he pulls Addy up into a seated position, 'J2!' is Marta and then pulling a funny face, he shifts Sorcha into the gap next to him with a grand announcement of 'J3!' Throwing an arm out to stop Sorcha's possible forward movement off the edge of the couch, Patrick looks as pleased as punch as Rigsby takes a sip of his drink and poses a question. 'What about J4?' he jokes.

'Oh, they'll be here in six months or so – give or take,' responded Patrick flippantly. It is quite amusing to watch Rigsby's reaction: coffee came flying out of his mouth as he coughs. 'Another one?' he gasps out as Sorcha claps her hands with glee at the spectacle.

'Yep,' responded Patrick nonchalantly as if he hadn't just dropped a bombshell. 'Wasn't planned, but eh,' he shrugged with a grin.

'Wow,' said van Pelt as Lance Nottingham just looked at the sight before him. Even after four years with the team, Patrick Jane was still an enigma to him. 'Congrats,' said a voice on the other side of the room as Cho put his two cents worth in.

'Cho!' called Addy happily as she jumped off the couch and looked for her most favourite person in the world – apart from her Mummy and Daddy, and maybe her sisters, that is. Finding him at a desk, head now buried in his novel once again, Adelaide races across the room.

Where Cho's blank face and gruff demeanour might scare children - and a number of adults - this four year old was more than willing to slip under his arms and scramble into his lap. 'Cho!' said Addy joyfully as she hugged him then sat back on his lap and got straight to the point. 'Have you got any lollipops?'

'Hmm,' responds Cho, with a teasing look that suggests he might not have any. 'There might just be a container of them in my office.'

''Course there is silly,' chides Addy rolling her eyes before she places her hands on Cho's shoulders. 'Could I _please_ have one?'

'You been a good girl lately?' Cho probed with a raised eyebrow as Addy nods her head so vehemently that there is a real risk of her hair falling from her ponytail. 'Well in that case, what flavour would you like?'

'Well, I think I'll have a strawberry one,' Addy said, finger to her chin as if in deep thought. 'And Mar will have a plain one, but I don't know what flavour Sorch will want, so I think I better have one of each.'

'I don't think Sorcha will be having a lollipop,' said Cho humorously as Addy pins him with a serious expression. 'She might want one,' she said sombrely. 'And it would be very rude not to ask.'

'Right,' responded Cho slowly. Knowing exactly what she was doing, and marvelling that this little girl was far too much like her father, Cho stands up and slides Addy to the floor. Throwing Patrick a look and indicating that he was heading to his office with Addy, he can see that exact same girl behind him punching the air silently with a 'yes!'

Patrick waved his hand in Cho's direction and smirked as he saw his eldest reach up and grasp Cho's hand, no doubt to 'help' him to the office, but his attention was swiftly brought back to the couch when Sorcha – who had previously been standing on his knees and bouncing up and down – suddenly slips and bounces on something not quite so comfortable. Winded, Patrick stands the baby next to him to grip the couch back as he leans forward releasing a rush of air. 'Family jewels,' he mutters under his breath.

Meanwhile Marta has taken up a new game that involves jumping from the arm rest onto the couch: she could jump a long way, but sometimes she ended up in the gap between the cushions and once she didn't go very far because she kind of slipped off. Ever resourceful, her enjoyment is furthered by Rigsby and Lance, as while she couldn't quite understand what they were talking about, she knew that the more she jumped, the more cheers she got.

When Teresa Lisbon returned from her meeting with Minelli twenty five minutes later, it was to the sight of one daughter with a lollipop in her mouth and four others in her hand sitting on a desk near Cho, one daughter running toward the couch to flop headfirst onto it with a laugh as Rigsby cheered her on, and another daughter on the floor near van Pelt's feet with a pen in her hand (and very close to her mouth) as her husband tries to reason with her.

Resting her hand on her slight swell, she wondered if her next – and _final!_ – child would be a little curious rambunctious prankster just like her sisters, and dare she say it, just like her father.


	13. April Fools

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Any reference to people past or present is entirely coincidental.

**Warning: **Contains suicide, so please proceed with caution if this is a sensitive topic for you.

*****************

When the piercing ringing tone of a mobile shattered the still night – and her sleep – Teresa Lisbon reached her hand out for the phone by habit. Mumbling 'Hello?' into the handset, and listening to the male voice responding on the other end, her mind quickly realises that she was not the intended recipient, and indeed, it wasn't even her phone. Pushing back against the form wrapped around her, she raises her hand back and over to the awakening body. 'You.'

Patrick Jane didn't even bother lifting his head from his new position on Lisbon's shoulder as he took the proffered phone. 'Yello?'

'Mm hmm.'

'Yep.'

'Now?'

'Okay.'

Bending over Lisbon to place the phone on the bedside table, Patrick drops a kiss on her head before he pulls back the covers and gets out of the bed. 'I've got a case.'

Lisbon's only response is to nod her head against her pillow. She's almost back in the land of slumber when Patrick dips his head and places a kiss on her forehead and pulls the covers all the way up. 'Love you.' Snuggling in, she appreciated that going on maternity leave had its perks. Call outs at all hours of the night would now be a thing of the past – for the next few months at least.

But when she was fully awake some hours later, she was bored out of her brain. How was she supposed to amuse herself? She was nine months pregnant, not a fan of daytime television and seriously lacking in the mental stimulus that her work had provided her with up until three days ago. And so with this reasoning, Lisbon picked up the phone and gave her husband a call. Maybe he needed some assistance on the case?

Patrick Jane picked up after the second ring and promptly greeted her with a resounding 'No'.

'You don't even know what I was going to ask,' reasons Lisbon crankily as she rubs the side of her belly. _Baby was active today._

'Perhaps not. But I know you,' was the blithe response.

'Not one thing?' she ventured.

'Not one thing,' confirmed Patrick. 'You're on leave, which means you're on LEAVE! No work allowed.'

'Not entirely my fault all that,' Lisbon griped, but she couldn't prevent a small smile escaping in response to Patrick's hearty laugh.

'Good bye sweetheart!' sang Patrick as he hung up.

Throwing the phone onto the couch, she set about amusing herself for the next hour or so, before she switched on the midday news.

'_... and we go live now to the scene. Jocelyn, what can you tell us?'_

'_Well Wade, I'm here at the residence of Governor Thomas Billings where a teenager was found dead in the early hours of this morning. _

_No details have been released, and the police remain tight lipped about the circumstances surrounding the death. The identity of the deceased remain unknown. _

_We'll have more for you on that story later today. _

_Back to you in the studio Wade.' _

Reckoning that this must be the case that her husband had been called out for this morning, and thinking that if she can't help the case, at least she can follow it, Lisbon monitored the situation via the television news throughout the day.

CBI would be trying to keep a lid on everything, and she knew that the Governor's PR department would be working overtime, which was why the only bits of new information she got that afternoon was the name.

'_We can reveal that the teenager who passed away last night at the home of Governor Thomas Billings was seventeen year old Landon Keogh. _

_Inside sources tell me that the teenager was found hanging from the top floor balcony. It has not yet been revealed why he was there. _

_Police have advised that they have not yet determined a cause of death and are pursuing several avenues of investigation...' _

When Patrick walks in the door, she was watching Governor Billings giving a press conference.

'... _The death of Landon Keogh is a tragedy, and I regret that the incident should happen at my home. In light of this most unfortunate incident, I will be cooperating fully with the police to help catch the person responsible for the death of such a bright and ...'_

Placing the television on mute, Lisbon looks sheepishly at Patrick as he leans against the door frame, arms crossed over his chest, vest half-unbuttoned and sleeves rolled up, as he raises his eye in amusement. 'I don't think you've quite grasped the meaning of 'leave' my dear.'

'The news was on and I just happened to be watching it,' said Lisbon lamely as an excuse as Patrick pushed himself off the doorframe and made his way over to her. 'Dinner for three?'

'Please...'

*****************

The death of a teenager at the Governor's residence was high profile news, and not long after Patrick left for work early the next morning, Lisbon was in bed watching the news whilst eating her breakfast.

'_It has come to light that the party at Governor Thomas Billings' party on Sunday night was hosted by his son Braxton Billings without his permission. There were over 200 revellers there, and police now have the onerous task of interviewing each and every one of them...'_

Needing to relieve her bladder _again_, she continues to follow the coverage.

'_...as everyone tries to understand the tragedy, friends have flooded Landon Keogh's Facebook page with messages of support for the family and well wishes...'_

Facing long hours in the day once again, Teresa Lisbon decides that checking out the phenomenon that is Facebook may just be the way for her to keep amused as she leaves her bedroom to find her laptop. Her nephew had emailed her a request before to join up some time ago, and so now seemed like a good a time as any!

Feet propped up on cushions, a glass of water nearby, Lisbon joins the other 250 million other uses. Navigating the friends, applications and requests, Lisbon doesn't know what to do when she finds a message on her wall. 'Hey Aunty Teresa. Welcome to the world of FB. Good luck!'

Giving it up after an hour or two, and with mother nature calling once again, Lisbon pushes the laptop away and stands up, rubbing her back at the sudden pain. She swore that Baby Jane was running a marathon or something at the rate they were moving around and sending her to the toilet.

Deciding that she'd just quickly flick on the television news and get an update – after all, it's not like she was trying to solve the case or anything – Lisbon is greeted with the now familiar face of reporter Jocelyn.

'..._for the recently separated Mr and Mrs Keogh, this is a double blow. Their older son Russell died in a workplace accident mid-last year when a sheet of cement fell and crushed him. What a cruel blow to lose their other son less than twelve months later...'_

The Patrick Jane that slid in to bed much later that night was a considerably different man to the one that had left that morning. She didn't object as he pulls her close and wraps both of his arms around her, hands firmly on his unborn child as he buried his face into the crook of her neck. 'I don't like the way this is going.'

She says nothing, instead inserting a hand of her own between his.

'I had to speak with the mother today... she's distraught. She's going to be burying two sons in under a year,' he continued, eyes blank.

'I know. I saw it on the news,' she responds softly as he squeezes her tighter.

'And apparently the kid had just lost a friend at school recently too. What is going on with kids these days?'

She felt his warm breath along her cheek. 'I missed you out there today...'

*****************

'_Police have confirmed it is suicide.'_

Lisbon's mug of tea never made it to her mouth as her attention was focussed on this revelation. _No wonder Patrick was struggling with this case. _

Spending a few moments struggling with an internal debate, Lisbon makes her decision at the same time her unborn child gives a flurry of kicks. 'Don't tell your father,' says Lisbon rubbing her swollen abdomen as she made her way over to her laptop.

Logging into Facebook, she searches for the name Landon Keogh. Reading the countless messages on his wall, she sees a few references to a Harrison Forbes, including a few posts that lamented his death. _This must be the school friend Patrick was talking about_. Following a gut feeling, she searched Landon's friends and found Harrison Forbes. She looked in horror at Harrison Forbes' status update: 'I'm not dead!'

Looking down at his wall posts, she can trace back messages to the first of April. Landon Keogh's was amongst the messages of sympathy and grief on the wall. Returning to the homepage, she sees that Harrison has uploaded a video. It was dated 14th April 2009 – the day after Landon's suicide at the Billings party at the Governor's house.

'_Hey everyone. Yep I'm actually alive. Isn't that the coolest April Fools' Joke or what? For everyone that helped hide me and share the good news of my "death", kudos to you mate. This beats last year...'_

Knowing with a sinking feeling that this information was going to be vital to Patrick's case, it's with a heavy heart that Lisbon reaches for her phone and calls Cho.

*****************

Patrick Jane stood at the back of the interview room watching Cho interviewing the newly alive Harrison Forbes about his April Fools' Joke that spanned two weeks.

'....Lando was a practical joker. Last year on April Fools' he brought a film crew to the school and said we'd been picked for a huge big-budget movie and we had to strip and run around naked. Only we weren't really in a movie were we?' said Harrison sarcastically. 'Turns out it was all a joke. So I decided to one up him this year.'

'How long were you planning on carrying this on for?' asked Patrick incredulously. 'How long did you think you could get away with being dead?'

'Tone it down mate,' scoffed the teenager. 'Honestly, being dead was getting a bit boring cos of all the evading and lying and stuff, so I'd planned to come out with it at the party, but bloody Lando managed to upstage me once again with his own death.'

'You don't seem to believe he's actually dead,' said Cho.

'Well yeah,' Harrison responded with a shrug of his shoulders. 'How do I know it's not a joke again?'

'He's dead,' said Patrick in a low tone, flipping open the file in front of Cho and pulling out the morgue photo of Landon Keogh and slamming it down in front of Harrison. 'That dead enough for you?'

'Jane...' said Cho in a warning tone as Patrick backed off and leant against the wall once again. 'Why did you need to fake your death?'

'Lando's stupid joke last year made my girlfriend break up with me,' said Harrison bitterly, arms crossed over his chest. 'So I reckon it was fair go.'

'He lost a brother last year!' shouted Patrick.

'Well I lost a girlfriend!' shot back Harrison in defiance. 'So I'd say we're even. And besides he started it. He was the practical joker – not much recently, but still...'

His demeanour then changed. 'It was brilliant mate. Lando didn't have a clue. Everyone was in on it – even Lando's best mate Louis. Apparently I had a funeral in Australia,' laughed Harrison as Patrick fought the bitter taste in his mouth. This was not going to end well.

*****************

When Louis Sabine – the last person to see Landon Keogh alive – was brought in again later that afternoon, Patrick couldn't face participating in the interview, and so watched behind the glass with a sinking feeling as Rigsby and van Pelt questioned Louis about Harrison Forbes' "death".

'Why didn't you tell us this before?' probed van Pelt.

'Well I wasn't sure if the joke had ended yet,' Louis said defensively as Rigsby walked around.

'You said in your original interview that you were the last person to see Landon Keogh alive. Is that correct?'

'Yeah.'

'And according to your statement, the two of you talked about a school assignment.'

'Yeah. What's the crime in that?'

'Anything else you want to add? Anything else you didn't tell us? Now that the joke is over and everything.'

'Ah,' said Louis nervously.

'You need to tell us,' said van Pelt gently. 'It will help us find out why your friend died.'

'The last thing Landon said to me was "Is Harrison really dead?" and I told him he was,' said Louis. Patrick sees the change in the teenager's face as he comes to a realisation. 'Oh God, I killed him. I killed my best friend.'

As Louis burst into tears and van Pelt tried to console the distraught teenager, Patrick left the room.

Sitting on his couch Jane ignores the movements of the agents around him. As the sun sets, Jane still sits there with his face buried into his hands. This case had struck a little too close to home for him, dredging up old fears that he would rather remain long buried. As everyone begins to leave and the office lights dim, Jane still sits there until a familiar pair of shoes comes into his line of sight. As Lisbon wordlessly reaches out her hand and leads him from the room, he can't help but wonder... Who was responsible?

Was it the brother for dying? The parents for splitting up? Harrison's April Fools' Day Joke? The joke last year? The mates for carrying it out? The best mate's confirmation?

Or was it the simple realities of life that made Landon Keogh feel that living just wasn't an option anymore?

*****************

**Author's Note: **I know this might have been a bit confronting for some, but I hope that you were still able to enjoy the story.


End file.
